


no replacement for you.

by kuripaaan



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: M/M, Magic, Mister Donut, Mr. Bake, Only a passing mention of Sakurai but he's still loved, not everything can be solved with magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 11:26:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6656026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuripaaan/pseuds/kuripaaan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aiba (and Jun) have had nothing but success in their endeavor but when a rival shows up, how will they deal with it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	no replacement for you.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theotheralissa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theotheralissa/gifts).



Aiba Masaki’s assistant ran into the upstairs office, panicking. Aiba wouldn’t have guessed that he was panicking if he wasn’t so familiar with his assistant’s mannerisms. Matsumoto Jun could look as cool as a cucumber at any and all times, but the speed with which he moved told Aiba all that he needed to know. He pulled himself away from his computer, and grabbed a notebook to make sure that he could properly take note of all the information he knew was coming his way.

Jun took a seat in front of his desk and spread out his notebook on top of whatever work was already there. He pulled out a menu and thrust it in Aiba’s face.

“Have you seen this?”

Aiba leaned closer, as if the menu wasn't already three inches from his face.

“Well?”

Aiba looked up and met Jun’s gaze, impressed as always by the intensity shining in his eyes. He got lost for a moment, thinking about all the times that Jun had supported him from the very beginning, when this donut shop was just a vague, outlandish idea sitting in the back of his head. But he was pulled back to the present just as quickly when Jun shook the page in front of him.

“Masaki, I need you right here with me, focus please.”

“Right, right.” Aiba grinned up him, sat back a bit and stroked his newly grown mustache. “It's a menu, MatsuJun.”

Jun rolled his eyes and smacked his hand away from his face. He then reached across the desk and wiped away Aiba’s mustache with ease, clearly way too used to entertaining Aiba’s antics.

“Hey,” Aiba protested, “Don't you know how much effort it takes to grow that back?” Aiba closed his eyes tightly and wriggled his nose. After a moment, the mustache started to grow back at a frighteningly quick pace. Jun sighed and waited for the process to be done before he snapped his fingers and vanished the mustache again. The pout that Aiba gave then did nothing to distract Jun from what he originally came here for.

“I know it's a menu, Masaki, but did you see the address on it? No? Then you wouldn't have noticed that they've opened up right across the street from us.” Jun pointed at the wide window that decorated Aiba’s office. Outside the newly opened sweets shop stood proudly, as if mocking Aiba and all the hard work he put into his own shop.

“MatsuJun, what should we do? We've been unrivaled for so long,” Aiba whispered as he stood from his desk and walked to the window. He stood there with his arms wrapped around his body as he thought of ways to try and take down that pretty new shop. A slight shiver of anticipation ran through him and settled into his bones. Jun walked up besides him and rested a hand on his shoulder. Jun’s so cute when he gets competitive, Aiba thought to himself as he leaned into the unspoken comfort.

Jun moved his hand down to the center of Aiba’s back to offer his undying loyalty. “We'll get through this, Masaki. And crush the competition while we're at it.”

\---

Aiba had grown up surrounded by food. His grandparents owned a little sit-in deli that took up the first floor of their house as he had grown up. He remembered spending a lot of time there in the back doing his homework, especially in elementary and middle school. He used to take mini breaks in between assignments and watch his grandparents hustle and bustle in the kitchen. He loved the way they worked around each other with the ease that came from many years of being in the same space.

His grandmother was the one who often decided the seasonings, set the plates, and had an eye for the beautiful displays of the food his grandfather worked hard to cook. His grandfather was the one who directed the pots and pans, instructed the cutlery, and controlled the heat that the kitchen fires burned at, all with a quick and efficient wave of his fingers.

He remembered being entertained when his friend from school, Jun, would come over with him some days and sat at their table completely entranced by the spinning soup spoons and quick-chopping knives. Aiba took pride in his grandparents’ work and the delicious foods they produced. It was always a sight to behold.

Aiba’s father at first had helped out in the kitchen of his parents’ family-run deli. He was the one who experimented with recipes, created interesting (and eccentric) ad campaigns, and was the one behind the financial upkeep of the restaurant.

It was he who had come up with the idea to expand and franchise the deli. First, it was a deli on the other side of town that Aiba’s parents were mostly in charge of. It took a bit of time, but once that store got into it’s groove, the profits had really started to take off. That, combined with the profit of the original restaurant, had provided enough to open up a restaurant in the next town over. From there, the rest was history. Aiba’s parents spent most of their time now hopping up and down the country, managing the many franchises that they had produced. Sure, that meant that Aiba had mostly been raised by his grandparents, but they didn’t mind and neither did he, so it wasn’t a big deal.

\---

Halloween was coming up and Aiba had planned on debuting a new line of donuts, filled with the tastes of autumn, but decorated in the spirit of the holiday. He and Jun had done weeks of overnight sessions doing food and decoration testing. Each and every donut design was tested to death and approved only after perfection (decided by their trustworthy taste-tester, Sho-chan) had been achieved (Sho absolutely fell in love with the maple bacon buttercream).

But the approach of Halloween apparently also meant that Mr. Bake was having a Halloween costume contest and they were invited. Jun was almost furious when he brought the invitation upstairs to Aiba’s office. Aiba was in the middle of designing the Halloween advertisements when Jun slammed the invitation on his desk. Aiba jumped in reaction, almost falling out of his seat.

“Jun, you have to stop doing that,” Aiba murmured while he pulled himself back into his chair, pushing his mussed hair back into place.

“I will when they stop,” Jun replied and pointed to the invitation. “They’ve personally extended an invitation to us. The little smirky one gave it to me himself. Can they be any ruder?”

“Rude? How so? That sounds like a lot of fun!” Aiba smiled widely up at Jun, the thought of costumed fun lighting up his eyes.

“Masaki, they’re our rivals,” Jun had to remind him, a hint of exasperation in his words.

“Oh, that’s right, that’s right.” Aiba’s smile turned sheepish. He pulled at the lobe of his ear, embarrassed at how quickly he forgot that they were the competition.

Jun folded the invitation and tucked it into his notebook. “This might as well be a declaration of war.”

\---

Once Aiba had entered high school, he had started helping around the restaurant for some pocket cash. His grandparents were glad to give him any money that he may have asked for, as the franchises were doing very well, but Aiba himself felt the need to earn it. After school when he didn’t have basketball practice, Aiba would wait at the restaurant. It was a job that his grandparents had easily taken care of before with a simple wave of their hands, but with Aiba there to wave the plates to and from customers, it gave them more time and magic to concentrate on the food and Aiba time to practice the precision of his magic.

One slow day, Aiba had made it behind the kitchen counter and into the prep area. He was bored and picked up his favorite hobby of asking his grandparents about the meaning of life, the universe, and everything. He had gotten in the way of his grandparents as they hustled and bustled around, disrupting the ebb and flow of the kitchen. So his grandma declared right then and there that “if you’re going to be in here, then you might as well put your hands to use!”.

Aiba was put in charge of pastry duty that day, since Grandmother had decided that was the best way for Aiba to burn off the excess energy that he had.

“A strong young man such as yourself knows how knead all that tough dough, no?” Grandmother laughed at the pout Aiba gave.

“I still don't know why I can't use my magic. What's the point of having it otherwise?” Aiba huffed in response. He turned to the counter, roughly pulling his sleeves up while he muttered in discontent to himself. He was about to stick his hands into the dough when his grandmother rested a hand on his wrist, instantly stopping him from his work.

“Masa-chan, do you honestly not understand?” Grandmother’s voice was soft, her eyes meeting his. The gentleness in her eyes deflated Aiba’s irritation immediately. His shoulders dropped from besides his ears and he shook his head.

Grandmother patted his arm and tutted softly. “I thought your parents would've told you at least. I know you've been in the kitchen long enough to see us cook, but I don't think you've ever been here so late at night.”

Grandmother nudged Aiba over and floured her hands. She took the dough and gently, but firmly, started to knead it, folding it into itself. Aiba was mesmerized by the steady rhythm of the process, but he still kept an ear out for his grandmother’s story.

“Poppa and I would close up the shop after the last customer, usually Mrs. Yamaura. We would clean up what was left over from the day and wipe down the tables and chairs. Once that was done, I'd go to the back of the kitchen and watch as the ingredients were finishing mixing.” She flipped the dough to give the other side some much needed attention, and pulled Aiba in front of her, guiding his hands for the first few pushes and pulls.

“We couldn’t leave the magic to do all the work, because, somehow, the taste would be off. No twist of the wrist or twitch of a finger could remove that awkward, lingering aftertaste from our pastries.” She laughed softly, remembering how frustrated she had been at the situation. “I remember wanting to give up. But one day, after catering a friend’s party, I was just exhausted. I couldn’t summon a spoon for all that I was worth! But it needed to be done and so that meant that I had to do it by hand.”

“Why didn’t you ask Poppa to help you?” asked Aiba while he kneaded the dough, enjoying the squish of it between his fingers. Aiba thought this might just be his calling. In the kitchen, anyway.

“No, it was my job. So I did it. Could’ve sworn that I was ten times stronger by the time it was over.” Grandmother laughed again as she stepped back and gave Aiba full control over the dough. “The dough was left to sit overnight to rise and I went to bed.”

“And what, they magically cooked overnight?” Aiba joked, separating the dough into chunks as his grandmother showed him how to portion.

Grandmother slapped Aiba on the shoulder with a laugh, took the dough pieces, and put them on a cookie sheet to rest. “No, silly, it’s not like these things are sentient. I got up that morning and put them in the oven. They baked while I did food prep for the day. When that timer went off, I smelled the most heavenly baked goods I had ever smelled in my life and was almost surprised to find that it was coming from my very own oven. They were nearly perfect.” Grandmother nodded to herself, smiling at the memory. “Oh, that first customer was so impressed. That was Ms. Inui, who always stops by for breakfast before running off to work?” Aiba nodded in acknowledgement; he knew who she was referring to. “She kept going on and on about it. Asked for at least three more to take with her. That almost decided it, but it was your Poppa’s reaction, the way he picked me up and hugged me so tight right in front of the customers, that cemented it for me; they needed to be handmade.”

Grandmother moved off towards the kitchen and took a tray to put into the fridge, still talking about how much the customers that day loved it.

“It was the best decision I ever made! After deciding to take care of you, Masa-chan.”

\---

After thorough plotting and planning, Aiba and Jun (though mostly Aiba) had created what was sure to be a fool-proof plan. They had spent days brainstorming costume ideas. They had come up with at least five designs each before they settled on two. Aiba would be a vampire, which didn’t need much more than a black suit and cape and a set of vampire teeth, which were easily magicked up. Jun’s costume was to be a space pirate, which Aiba wasn’t sure how he would pull it off. What exactly did a space pirate look like in the first place?

The day of the party came quickly. Aiba stood downstairs waiting for Jun to be done getting dressed, his hands on his waist and foot tapping impatiently.

“Jun, hurry up!” Aiba yelled upstairs, “I know you do fashionably late, but we need to get going.”

Aiba soon heard the clunk of boots moving down the hall. Jun walked down the stairs dressed in a long sleeved red shirt and a tight pair of black pants that sparkled like the stars that his character was born from. The light in the room sparkled and glinted with every step he took. Aiba barely stopped himself from laughing aloud, though he did allow himself a wide smile.

“Would you look at the spellwork on that. Do I even wanna guess how long that took you?” Aiba’s eyes followed Jun down the stairs, admiring the way the clothing clung to his body.

Jun smacked him lightly on his head and then reset the hair he knocked out of place. He walked around Aiba to take in his costume. He pulled at the cape, adjusting the way it sat on Aiba’s shoulders. Jun came to a stop in front of Aiba and gave him one last lookover.

“Something’s missing,” sighed Jun, tapping a finger on his chin. “But what is it?” He closed his eyes for a bit to think about it. Aiba took this as his chance to get a really good look at Jun’s costume. He tried his best to quietly tip toe around Jun, but with a snap of his fingers, Jun had Aiba frozen in place.

There was something about the way Jun effortlessly cast his magic that always gave Aiba a thrill.

\---

Aiba was officially put in charge of the pastries when the customers started complimenting him. He was faithful to the way his grandmother made them, but the customers all claimed that there was something just a little different about them. Different enough for them to ask who had made the pastries that day when they ordered dessert.

On the slow days, however, Aiba would experiment. He’d leave a piece or two of dough on the side and would save it for another part of the day. It wasn’t long before Aiba figured out his specialty with pastries lie in donuts. Each piece of dough made about three donuts each, so he always took the time to come with up three new flavors to test out. Jun was always the one he gave the donuts to, because he knew Jun’s palate was a lot more refined than his own. And, if Aiba was honest with himself, he wanted to take care of Jun and give him food that would make him happy. It was mostly with this thought in mind that Aiba would create his masterpieces.

Jun had given him the nickname Mister Donut when he started showing up at school with donuts for Jun to try. Aiba was too impatient to wait for Jun to stop by the restaurant, so along with his bento of yesterday’s leftover, he would stuff his donuts into his lunch bag. When lunchtime rolled around, Aiba would pull Jun to their table and place the donuts directly in his hands.

“This time, I thought taro would make an interesting flavor.” Aiba smiled widely and pulled out his own lunch while Jun eyed the donut with some suspicion.

“That’s what you said about the mabodofu donut and I trusted you about that.” The suspicion in Jun’s voice pulled a raspy laugh out of Aiba.

Aiba shook his head. “No, no, trust me again, it’s fine. I made sure to taste it a bit myself.”

“But the inside is purple, Masaki.” Jun had broken the donut open and was once again immediately suspicious about it. The outside of the donut was the standard brown, but the inside was a vivid purple, dotted with black spots. “Are you sure this is safe to eat? That color doesn’t exist in nature.”

“That mabodofu donut was one time!” Aiba said in exasperation. He took the donut from Jun and broke off a small piece.

“Yeah, but once is eno-” Aiba stuffed the piece of taro donut into Jun’s mouth. He took solace in the fact that Jun didn’t spit it out immediately, watching the expressions slide across his face. When the final expression was that of cautious pleasure, Aiba let out a whoop of joy. He didn’t want to tell Jun, but he had spent a lot more time than usual on getting that donut perfect. The shade of purple, the sweetness of the taro, the sponginess of the donut, everything.

Jun watched Aiba celebrate, his own smile spreading slowly over his lips.

“Have you ever… thought of opening your own shop?”

“Me?” Aiba paused in the middle of his celebrating. “My own shop? I can’t cook that well!” Aiba laughed off the suggestion, turning back to his food. “Nan made this.”

“Not food. A donut shop where you could sell these creations! Except the mabodofu donut, seriously. Weren’t you going to take over your grandparents’ restaurant anyway?” Jun pulled out his lunch to eat now that the day’s donut taste testing was done. He looked over at Aiba when he was silent for too long.

The look on Aiba’s face was hopeful and pleading, but ultimately endearing.

“I would if you helped me.”

\---

The music that greeted them was loud when they stepped into Mr. Bake’s bake shop. There were party lights flashing over the crowd dancing in the center of the room. At the back of the room was the DJ, who was dancing as he spun the music for his crowd. Aiba felt the bump of the bass throbbing through his body as he took in the scene. Jun did the same, standing stiffly beside him. Jun froze when he noticed something.

“That’s him. The little smirky one.” Jun pointed at the DJ. He pulled Aiba through the crowd, maneuvering through the writhing bodies with little difficulty. Aiba took this time to look around the shop The shop was much bigger than Aiba thought it would be, with intricate decorations and cleverly hidden lighting. There were showcases against the wall that were filled to the brim with the sweets that Mr. Bake’s had to offer. Aiba wanted to get a closer look, but just as they were at the DJ stand, a small, tanned cowboy stopped them in their tracks.

He brought up the hand he used to stop them and traced the rim of his hat as he eyed them both.

“Do you intend on interrupting the music?”

Jun shared a look with Aiba before answering the cowboy.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but we wanted to talk to the DJ-- The DJ Devil.” Jun nodded towards the DJ stand, where the DJ had thrown the crowd into a frenzy with the latest track change. The DJ Devil smiled widely, his thin pointed tail wagging excitedly behind him. “We wanted to thank him for the invitation.”

The cowboy’s eyes widened.

“You’re him. Them? You’re Mister Donut.”

\---

And so it began. Aiba and Jun began spending the free time they had after school and after afterschool activities researching and working on business proposals. Aiba wanted to ask his grandparents to help them startup, but Jun didn’t want him to ask them without a proper, planned budget to start from. Aiba intended to keep the plans a secret from his grandparents until he was ready to present it for them, but they overheard when he and Jun were doing research in Aiba’s room.

Grandma had come up to bring them drinks and a snack from the restaurant, floating the tray in front of her. She knocked on Aiba’s door softly, hearing them talking loudly. They seemed to be excited about whatever it was, so she slowly opened the door just the tiniest bit to hear the conversation. When she found out it was about her Masa-chan opening up his own shop, she opened the door all the way.

A soft, flat “No,” was all she said.

Aiba and Jun froze in surprise. Aiba’s eyes widened as he heard what she said a moment later.

“No?” Aiba asked wide eyed, afraid to ask the reason why.

Grandmother nodded and set the drinks on the table between them. “No. Not until you graduate from college. And then your grandfather and I will happily finance your donut shop.”

As Grandmother explained, both Aiba and Jun smiled widely in surprise. Aiba sprung from his seat on the floor to pull his grandmother into a hug. Joyous laughter rang from the pair of them as Aiba spun her around.

“Nan, I love you so much. Never change.”

\---

The little smirky one smiled at them as he met them in the back room where the cowboy had led them. Aiba wasn’t sure where they were being taken, but Jun seemed confident, especially once the little smirky one appeared.

They soon learned his name was Nino and he had invited them over that night for a specific reason.

“What, why? And why didn’t you give the invitation to me, I’m the one who actually owns the shop!” Aiba whinged at his hosts, ignoring the eye roll that Jun gave.

The cowboy snapped his fingers, changing his costume from a cowboy’s pants, button up shirt, and wide rimmed hat to an all white suit, complete with a sheer white Panama hat and white Oxford shoes.

“This is Bake.” He gestured to the kitchen area they were standing in.

“My nickname is Bake.” Bake snapped his fingers and started up the kitchen’s many ovens. “Because that is what I do.”

Nino smirked from his seat on the steel prep table, swinging his legs. “Oh-chan is the best at this. He has no rival.”

Bake? Oh-chan? Aiba didn’t know which name to use. So he didn’t. He opened his mouth to protest that claim when Jun stepped forward to defend him.

“Oh yeah? Then you haven’t tasted what Mister Donut has to offer.” Jun sneered in response.

“Oh, but we have,” Nino piped up when Ohno smiled. He sat back against the table and let Nino keep going. “And that’s why you’re here. We wanted to offer a partnership.”

Aiba was confused. “Why would two sweets shops partner up? What could you offer that we don’t have ourselves?” He folded his arms in front of his chest, his cape fluttering as he did. “We don’t need you trying to force your product into our sto--”

Aiba was cut off by Ohno’s surprisingly loud laugh. “How rude!”

“You really don’t know. Here, try this.” Nino hopped off the table and went to grab a tray of their product from the refrigerator. Aiba thought they sold cookies and said as much. Nino gave one to Aiba and one to Jun. He gestured for them to eat it. Aiba gave his a closer look while Jun flat out rejected it.

“I only eat what Mister Donut has to off--” Nino stuffed the cookie in Jun’s mouth and covered his mouth with his hand so that Jun couldn’t spit it out. Aiba was surprised by Nino’s audacity and turned to watch for Jun’s reaction.

“... Baked spaghetti?” Jun was clearly confused by what he was eating. “But that looked like a cookie.”

“That’s because it is. But no one said that it was a sweet cookie.” Ohno said as he reached for another cookie from the tray. “These cookies are full fledged meals. Baked spaghetti, chicken parmesan, miso katsu. Anything you want, we’ve got it.”

Aiba was stunned. It seemed so simple, but was incredibly brilliant. But he still wanted to know, “Why partner with us?”

Nino offered an answer this time. “Because we have tasted Mister Donut’s donuts and would have only the best desserts to offer with our meals. So what do you say?” Nino offered his hand to Aiba as Ohno offered his to Jun.

Aiba looked from Nino’s hand to Jun, hoping to get some feedback from his business savvy assistant. Jun’s eyebrows furrowed in quick thought, but he nodded. Aiba nodded back and took Nino’s hand, giving a firm shake.

“You’ve got a deal.”

“Maybe,” Jun added quickly.

\---

Jun offered Mr. Bake a trial run at first to see if their products really complemented each other. When both companies only saw an increase in profit and clientele, they signed a contract defining the terms of their partnerships.

From there, it was a match made in heaven. Or hell. 

After becoming close friends with the Mr. Bake pair, sometimes Aiba and Jun couldn’t decide which.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for theotheralissa for the inaugural Aiba Exchange@LJ.


End file.
